The Longest Night
by vlora
Summary: Oneshot. Daria and Jane duke it out with the fashion club for the rights to the family TV.


The Longest Night

The hardships of Lawndale ensured that Jane and Daria spent most their time in apathetic disinterest. On one particular night it was raining heavily, ensuring that the teens would certainly not want to go out. Not that they would anyway, but it seemed like a nice, convenient reason to throw at Daria's parents if they were asked. To tell Jane's parents they would have to learn how to use homing pigeons, along with other primitive forms of contact.

Whilst flipping from channel to channel, Jane arrived on an advertisement for a Sick, Sad World marathon later that evening. A chuckle escaped her lips as she set the remote down, her hands tucked behind her head. 'So we're up for tonight then?'

'Sick, Sad World, pizza, soda and my lonely, old house? That's a definite yes,' Daria grinned in her own way, her eyes settled on the flyer in her hand. It seemed their favourite TV show was holding an all-night marathon of old episodes before showing some new episodes – a notion that made the entire night an appealing endeavour. Daria looked up from the flyer to examine Jane, her hands settled by her sides.

'What's the matter Morgendorffer?' Jane asked as she kicked her feet up onto the coffee table, truly settling in for a night of television. All she needed was a bowl of popcorn tucked under an arm, and a soda perched on the arm of the couch.

'Just wondering how we got so lucky,' Dari noted in response.

'I think Trent is out tonight anyway, if it comes to that.'

'I doubt Trent would care either way. He'd probably join in.' Daria replied,

'Why? Are you hoping he is home so you have something to cuddle up to?' Jane received no reply, excluding Daria's sour expression and narrowed eyes, 'Maybe not then,' Jane concluded. As she sat up to venture to the kitchen, the front door rattled open.

The usual Fashion Club entered the house, seeming to be mid-conversation.

'Sandi, your question is… If your current boyfriend named Danny was to celebrate your one-week anniversary was to watch Grease, what would you do- A) point out that the puns are lame, B) laugh and tell him how funny he is or C) wonder if he was gay.'

'Well, due to the utterly lame jokes with our names, I would never have started dating him in the first place. It's not only how you look, it's how your names sound together – you'll do well to remember that girls.'

'Nice Sandi,' Stacy said with a genuine smile, looking at the other girls with enthusiasm.

'Isn't it unfair that like… Sandi wrote all the questions… so she'll like… know the answers or whatever…?' Tiffany drawled, her knees hugged to her chest.

'Next question,' Sandi dismissed, her hands resting on her hips. At this point the group seemed to register the fact there was others in the room. 'Quinn, what is this?'

'What's what Sandi,' her voice jumped at the end of Sandi's name, coming out as a small squeak rather than a name. 'Daria! Why are you home?' Quinn paused, thinking over the statement, 'Wait, no, I know why you're home. Look, can you go upstairs to your room? We need the TV and you have your own.'

Daria settled further into the couch, her face remaining forward to the TV.

'Daria,' Quinn whined, walking in front of Daria's line of vision. The girl in glasses darted side to side before sighing and looking Quinn in the face.

'Oh. Hey Quinn. Did you date not have a convertible?'

'I'm not going on a date tonight, Chaz's car got ruined because he left the top down and Hayden was so brainy and boring the other night… and besides, it's the annual Fashionista report! We, the fashion club, need to watch this broadcast. It's pretty super-crucial to our image.'

Daria seemed to ignore this rant, inching across the couch. 'Jane and I are watching TV – mine's busted.'

Quinn let out a small growl of annoyance. 'Well we can't go anywhere else because it started raining and we can't get our hair, make-up or outfits wet.'

Daria sighed, sitting up a little. 'Jane, can we go to yours before she tries to attach me with an eyelash curler or hair dryer?'

Jane pouted slightly, settling back into the couch. 'Dunno Daria, my stories are starting. Will Joel and Tamalia reconcile, or will they be doomed as half-twin, half-aliens on a distant island.'

Daria considered this for a moment before sitting back into the couch, smiling. 'Fair call. It is a very important episode of Sands of Fate… wouldn't wanna miss a second of this quality broadcasting.' Daria watched as Quinn just stood silently before turning to her friends.

They seemed to form a plan. All at once, they began discussing make-up, boy bands and God knows what else. Stacy trotted off to find a CD player, slipping in their favourite brand of vapid and poppy tunes that gave both Jane and Daria cavities. They also began to discuss fabrics, right in front of the television. Damn, they were good.

Jane made the next move, clearing her throat. 'As President of the Unfashion Club, I feel it's in my jurisdiction to decree that any plaid, tartan or checker patterns are a must in any outfit,' somehow, Jane managed a decent impression of Sandi, her voice nasally and aggressive in the same manner as the brunette.

'And I second it. Next order of business – purple and yellow stripes, yes or no?' Daria proposed, talking over the music.

Jane pretended to think the topic over before launching into a drawled, dabbling speech about how the colours would clash so brilliantly.

'Stop it, stop it! Even just thinking about it hurts my head!'

'And here I was under the belief that it only hurt you to think about school related tasks,' Daria replied, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. Quinn and herself rarely even fought it out in such a fashion, but the night had been perfectly planned – it was supposed to go smoothly, and without distraction. Unfortunately Quinn was refusing to budge, the music going higher and higher until both Daria and Quinn were blasting various sound systems at eardrum busting proportions. Somehow, over the sound, they managed to hear the arrival of a siren.

All the girls stared over at the door, switching off the music. They heard a knock. Then another. And another. Daria sighed and walked over to the door, only to be met with a police officer. Ten minutes and a lecture later, the door closed much to the girls thankfulness. They wouldn't be fined for the noise pollution, but they had a feeling their parents would find out.

'Truce?'

'Fine.' Quinn conceded.

'We'll just go to mine,' Jane added softly, toeing the floor. Daria agreed before looking towards the door. Another knock had resounded. Upon opening the door, the lean forms of Jesse and Trent standing in the door.

'Uh, we heard music… assumed it was a party. Guess not.' Trent laughed, looking between the stunned expressions of all the girls, sans Jane. It's something she expected of the older male. The Fashion Club stole the moment, turning the TV onto their preferred channel, settling into the couch – they totally ignored the television, talking loudly over the program they'd fought to listen to.

'C'mon Trent, we're taking Daria home with us.'

'Cool. Can we keep her Trent?' Jesse asked with a laugh.

'Bow wow,' Daria muttered, quickly walking through the door. She missed the 'of course' from Trent, which was probably a merciful act of some God or another. The four rushed out to the car in the drizzling rain, leaving the vain slather of the Fashion Club in the distance. Something told Daria it was going to be a long night.


End file.
